


Saving Grace

by AngelOtaku121



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOtaku121/pseuds/AngelOtaku121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunting is what the Winchesters do best. So today should have been like any other day, right? Wrong, because this time the hunt is for Abaddon. When everything goes horribly wrong for Dean, what must Cas do to make it right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spn_reversebang. My partner was the glorious artist [Sasha](http://boo-shvetsova.livejournal.com/), whom I would like to thank for drawing this beautiful piece of inspiration and being all around awesome. Thanks so much to [Brianna](http://samandgaybriel.tumblr.com/), [MadWithMusic](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4755777/), and [liliths](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3513420/) for betaing this. The exorcism is taken from [Wiccan Spells](http://wiccanspells.info/exorcism-and-possession-spells/exorcism-spell-latin-prayer-incantation/#axzz2qbacWqnD). And to you, dear reader, thank you for taking the time to glance through my work.

__

_“If you find it in your heart, can I be forgiven?  
Guess I owe you some kind of apology  
I've escaped death so many times, I know I'm only living  
By the saving grace that's over me”_  
  
“Ready, Cas?” Dean flashed a cocky grin back over his shoulder at the angel as he made his way from the bunker to the waiting Impala.  
  
Cas returned the smile half-heartedly. To be honest, he was nervous. Dean had discovered a ritual of banishment in one of the various tomes housed in the Men of Letters’ bunker. Specifically, the ritual would banish any demon to the deepest pit of Hell. Supposedly, it would take even the most powerful demon over a century to extract himself from the darkness. However, the ritual was dangerous - deadly even. Given that, Dean had come to the conclusion that he needed to be the one to perform it and that it needed to be used on Abaddon.  
  
So really, Cas didn’t feel ready at all. Dean was reckless. Of course, he was careful when it came to Sam or Cas’ safety, but he never thought twice about putting himself in harm’s way. Cas was afraid that the ritual would somehow go horribly wrong, injuring or killing Dean. Not even an angel of Castiel’s caliber could reverse such an ancient ritual, a ritual older than time itself. Perhaps Cas could have combatted it if he was at his full power, but even then, there would be no guarantee. However, no matter how many times Cas had implored Dean to reconsider, his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Dean had made up his mind to undertake this ridiculously dangerous plight, and nothing would deter him.  
  
Dean’s smile dimmed at Cas’ apparent lack of enthusiasm, but he quickly recovered it. He stopped, half turning to look back at Cas.  
  
“Oh, come on, where’s the faith?” he drawled. Cas shrugged helplessly, unable to articulate his mounting anxiety. Dean sighed, taking a few quick steps to stand before Cas. He put his hands on the other man’s shoulders and their eyes locked. In a far more serious tone, Dean said, “It’s going to work, Cas. All I have to do is say a few words, burn a couple twigs, and then we kick Abaddon’s ass straight back to Hell. Piece of cake.”  
  
Cas looked at his feet to escape Dean’s piercing gaze. A long moment passed before he responded, his voice low and full of concern. “I know that you think it will work, but Dean, there are so many variables, so much that could go wrong. And with magic like this, I don’t think I can help you if it isn’t a ‘ _piece of cake_ ’.”  
  
Cas lifted his head once more to see Dean smiling softly at him. Dean ducked his head, bringing his lips to Cas’ in a firm kiss. “Cas,” he whispered, pulling back. “Nothing bad will happen. I promise.” He kissed Cas once more before stepping away and grinning. “A day may come when the courage of men fails, but it is not this day!” he exclaimed, turning away from Cas to continue his lope toward the Impala.  
  
“You got her loaded up, Sammy?” he shouted, getting the attention of his younger brother who had been checking the ammunition in the trunk.  
  
Sam looked up as Dean sauntered over, Cas following closely behind. “Just about, yeah,” he replied, looking back at the amalgamation of weaponry before him. He began to sift through the pile, picking up items one by one. “Sacrificial dagger anointed with the blood of a prophet, acacia, angelica root, hellebore, grave dust, salt…it’s all here. All you need to do is recite the incantation.” He glanced at his brother. “You do have the incantation memorized, don’t you?”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “You really think I’d go into this  _that_  unprepared?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “Just making sure.” He slammed the trunk of the Impala shut and pulled out a map, pressing it flat on the car’s smooth exterior. A large red circle was inked onto the paper. Sam laid a finger directly on the circle’s center. “Lecompton, Kansas. Population: six hundred sixty-six. According to Garth, Abaddon has been hiding out there for the past week or so. It’s about two hundred miles from here.” Sam refolded the map and returned it to his pocket. “Are you guys ready?”  
  
Cas just nodded. Dean walked around the car and pulled the driver’s side door open. “This demon bitch is going down!” he declared, before shutting the door behind him and revving the engine.  
  


\------------

  
It was nearly sunset by the time they reached Lecompton. Crimson light streaked across the sky like blood on a battlefield, casting menacing shadows across the cluster of buildings. Dean pulled the Impala onto a sheltered side road, stopping and extracting himself from the vehicle. Cas and Sam followed suit.  
  
“It’ll be best to go on foot from here,” Dean said, opening the trunk and pulling out the small serrated knife that had become the Winchesters’ savior over the past few years. The etchings of the blade gleamed in the dying light. He held the demon blade out to Sam, who took it with a nod.  
  
“Abaddon’s been hiding out in the ‘Radical United Brethren Church.’ The original builders in 1909 constructed a network of catacombs beneath it. It’s impossible to navigate without a map,” Sam said, sliding a pistol into the waistband of his pants.  
Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Well, that’s just great. So we’re all just gonna get lost underneath some abandoned church? Awesome plan, Sam.”  
  
Sam smirked and pulled a faded piece of parchment out of his back pocket. He unfolded it to reveal a set of blueprints. Dean took it from him and examined it at length. Inked onto the parchment was a faded schematic from the original architect of the building. Scrawled in the upper right corner was an incantation that would seal the exit of the catacomb to create a safe house, impervious to demons. Dean grinned. “Those Men of Letters were really something, huh.”  
  
Sam chuckled. “Yeah. They have a whole trove of blueprints for things like this, all across the world. Those guys were everywhere. And,” he said, reaching into his pocket again and removing two folded pieces of paper. “I made copies.”  
  
“You’re brilliant, Sammy!” Dean exclaimed, returning the parchment to Sam and taking the copies. He handed one of the copies to Cas, put the other in his own pocket, and turned back to the trunk.  
  
He began pulling out the various herbs, forming a small pile on the ground at his feet. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. The incantation he had found was a strange one with three parts. Each part had to be enacted exactly, or the consequences would be catastrophic. The first involved burning sacred banishment herbs within a one hundred mile radius of the demon that was to be banished. Dean flipped open his lighter and touched the flame to the small pile of acacia, angelica root, and hellebore. As the fire devoured the plants, he chanted:  
  
“ _Regna terrae, cantata Deo, psallite Cernunnos,  
Regna terrae, cantata Dea psallite Aradia.  
caeli Deus, Deus terrae,  
Humiliter majestati gloriae tuae supplicamus  
Ut ab omni infernalium spirituum potestate,  
Laqueo, and deceptione nequitia,  
Omnis fallaciae, libera nos, dominates.” _  
  
The flames burned with a white light, smoking violently and shooting red sparks into the air. Dean gasped as pain began to build within his chest, a sharp, burning agony that sent him reeling backward. Blood roared in his ears, deafening him to his surroundings. He stumbled and would have fallen if not for the strong arms that appeared behind him, holding him up as he gasped for air. The pain receded as quickly as it had come, leaving a dull ache in its place. Slowly, he became aware of Sam standing before him, worry creasing his face, and Cas’ panicked voice in his ear.  
  
“Dean, are you okay? Can you hear me!? Dean!”  
  
Dean looked up at Cas, who had caught him. Their eyes met and he smirked slightly. “I’m good, Cas. It’s fine.”  
  
He extracted himself from Cas’ arms, stumbling slightly as he stood. He caught himself on the edge of the Impala and stood straight, refusing to let himself look any worse for wear. When he turned to face the other two, they both wore identical expressions of worry.  
  
“I’m serious, guys. There’s nothing to worry about,” he said, waving away their concern. Sam nodded reluctantly, and bent to pick up the lighter from where Dean had dropped it. Cas remained where he was, staring at Dean with a mix of sadness and anxiety. Dean opened his mouth to say something—anything—to reassure Cas that he was fine, that this wasn’t a suicide venture, that it  _would_  work, but before he could, Cas turned away, clasping his hands behind his back and staring off into the distance, deep in thought.  
Dean looked down at his hands where they gripped the edge of the Impala, noticing for the first time what must have been an effect of initiating the ritual. Deep crimson marking swirled around the lower part of his forearms, looping from his wrists to his palms. Latin words, signs, and sigils wove their way across his skin in an eerily elegant composition. Dean traced a finger across one of the marks, but felt nothing except a slight tingling sensation. He looked up to see Sam eyeing his wrists as though the markings were some evil enchantment. Dean pushed himself away from the car and pulled the sleeves of his shirt down to completely cover his arms. Sam raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  
  
“Well,” Dean said, clearing his throat to dispel the silence that had settled over the three men. He shrugged on his jacket and picked up the worn duffle bag full of weaponry, slinging it over his shoulder. “You guys ready?”  
  
“Of course,” Sam replied, tightening his grip on the demon-killing knife.  
  
Cas turned back to the brothers with a sigh. “I’m as ready as I’m going to be.” He removed his angel blade from within his trench coat, cursing the fact that it was, in effect, useless against Abaddon. Over the past few months, Abaddon had augmented her strength to the point of near invincibility. Through oaths and spells, she had made herself impervious to all weapons made by man and angel. They could still hurt her, but nothing that Cas had found could kill her, and Dean’s ritual was one of the few that would actually manage to banish a demon of her caliber back to Hell. “The ritual has already begun, so let’s do this quickly lest it have any negative side effects.”  
  
“That’s the spirit, Cas,” Dean remarked, walking over to the angel and giving him a one-armed hug. “We go in, we banish a demon, we leave. Quick and easy. Nothing to worry about. You trust me, right?”  
  
Cas looked sideways at Dean, who, Cas could see, was trying desperately to convince himself as well as his companions of the probability of success of the mission. There was an unspoken fear in Dean’s eyes, masked by a façade of confidence. Cas took a deep breath. “Implicitly, Dean. And if you say it will work, then I’m sure it will. It will be fine.”  
  
Dean’s shoulders sagged in relief. Hearing Cas’ affirmation of trust and his belief in their success, even if it was a lie, reassured Dean. He pulled away from Cas and began to walk toward the center of Lecompton, Abaddon, and the most difficult trial of his life.  
  


\------------

  
The Radical United Brethren Church stood erect in the center of the town, towering over the surrounding buildings, a collection of quaint homes and small offices. A cheery rainbow adorned its peak, belying the evil darkness that it housed. Dean opened the door gingerly, alert for even the smallest of disturbances. The door swung silently on its hinges, which had been recently oiled. The smell of fire and incense met Dean’s nose as he entered, a soothing aroma that masked a more foul scent of sulfur, which permeated the entire room. Demons had definitely been there.  
  
Cas and Sam entered behind Dean, quietly closing the door behind them. Dean handed them each a container of salt and grave dust, which they began to sprinkle along the base of every door and window frame. The second part of the ritual called for the cleansing of the area in which the demon was found, trapping it within the salt and purifying the building with hallowed ground. When they were finished, Cas and Sam returned to Dean’s side. He turned back to the entrance from whence they had come and began spreading the last of the mixture along it.  
  
“ _Exorcizamus you omnis immundus spiritus  
Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio,  
Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,  
Omnis and congregatio secta diabolica.  
Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, dominates,  
Ut coven tuam secura tibi libertate servire facias,  
Te rogamus, audi nos!_ ”  
  
As soon as the last word left his lips, white-hot agony again shot through Dean’s body, and he bit his lip to keep from calling out. He fell silently to his knees and dark spots danced at the edge of his vision, threatening to envelope him. The pain reached a crescendo of fiery torture and Dean felt something hot trickling down his chin. As the pain began to ebb, Dean became aware of Cas’ arms around him and the angel’s rough voice in his ear, chanting over and over: _It’s okay, Dean. You’re going to be alright. Just breathe. It’s almost over._  
  
Dean let out a shuddering sigh and probed his lip with his tongue. He tasted the saltiness of blood from the large fissure in his lip where he had bitten it. He took a moment to breathe and then muttered, “It’s alright, Cas. I’m okay.”  
Cas looked up at Dean and nodded, letting out a relieved breath. He passed a hand over Dean’s mouth, sealing the lesion, and then pressed a kiss to the newly healed skin before helping Dean to his feet. Sam came rushing over from his post at a window, where he had been keeping watch in case any demons had arrived.  
  
“Are you okay?” he whispered. In the silence of the church, it was deafening.  
  
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I’m good,” he responded, wiping the blood from his face with the edge of his sleeve. As he did so, his sleeve bunched up, and he noticed that the crimson markings had twined their way further up his arm, darkening as they went. The now burgundy symbols reached nearly to his elbow. He lowered his arm, pushing his sleeve back down as he did so. Dean didn’t know what the markings meant, but he was sure it would only make Cas worry more than he already was.  
Pulling out the copy of the blueprints he had received from Sam earlier, Dean began moving silently toward the altar. According to the map, the entrance to the catacombs was hidden in a cavity beneath the altar. It must have been some symbol of God’s protection from demons. Oh, the irony.  
  
Dean crept around the altar, wary of any signs of movement or even the smallest noise. Sam and Cas followed silently, their breath the only sound in the quiet cathedral. It wasn’t long before Dean spotted the trapdoor. It blended in perfectly with the worn stone floor, with the exception of the six-pointed Aquarian star that graced its center. The symbol of the Men of Letters marred the otherwise unblemished surface of the smooth stone, providing a convenient handhold to lift the stone from its place. Dean did so, revealing a ladder that plunged downward into darkness.  
  
Dean took a deep breath, bracing himself before clambering down onto the ladder. It was too dangerous to turn on a flashlight and risk being seen, so he would have to climb down in nearly complete darkness. He just hoped there weren’t any demons waiting at the bottom.  
  
 _Easy is the descent to Hell_ , Dean thought as he gripped that damp rungs of the ladder. He had never much cared for Virgil, but that one line had always stuck with him. Honestly, Virgil had no idea what he was talking about. Going to Hell was messy and painful and terrifying. But this? This plunge into complete and utter darkness? This was easy. And with the amount of demons crawling through the catacombs, Dean reckoned he could probably get away with calling this place Hell too.  
  
 _Hell in Heaven’s backyard_ , he smirked silently to himself.  _How poetic_.  
  
Dean’s foot hit a solid surface with a soft tap, and he released his grip on the ladder. He stepped back as Sam, and then Cas, reached the bottom, the entrance to the catacombs. Nothing attacked immediately, so Dean figured either Abaddon didn’t know they were there, or she was just waiting for them to come to her. Hopefully, it was the former, but in the event of the latter, they would just have to make it work.  
  
Sam pulled out a flashlight, flicking it on so that he could examine the parchment map. The inked lines spiraled out from the entrance in intricate loops, meant to confuse and ensnare any intruders. Fortunately, the maps would mean that the three would not get caught in any traps. Unfortunately, they had no idea where Abaddon was hiding.  
  
Cas perked up, cocking his head to the side and studying something on the wall intently. He looked confused at first, but the confusion soon dawned into understanding. He turned back to Sam and Dean.  
  
“There are ancient demon symbols etched onto the walls. Not wardings—I don’t think Abaddon ever thought she’d be found here—but rather, messages. More specifically, directions. These should lead us directly to Abaddon.”  
  
Dean grinned, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Finally, everything was falling into place. The first two parts of the banishment ritual were complete, and they were on their way to find Abaddon. Their plan would work, and they would banish the Knight of Hell back to the Pit where she belonged. And even if the carved symbols were put there as a means of misdirection, they were the best lead that the trio had thus far.  
  
Dean nodded to Cas. “Awesome. Lead the way.”  
  
Cas eyed the symbol once more before continuing down the tunnel, followed by the Winchesters. The three walked in silence for what felt to Dean like ages. How large could these catacombs possibly be? While Cas periodically checked the demon symbols on the walls and Sam glanced at the map every so often, Dean had nothing to do except listen for any adversaries and overthink the rest of their plan. With every step he took, fear and doubt weighed more heavily on him. And his confidence hadn’t been overly abundant to being with.  
  
So lost in thought was Dean that he failed to notice when Sam stopped abruptly in front of him. Dean looked up at the last minute to grind to a halt, just before he would have crashed directly into his brother’s back. He looked around in confusion. “Why did we stop?” he asked quietly.  
  
Sam glanced back at Dean and shrugged, gesturing to Cas. The angel was staring unblinkingly at another symbol. Dean leaned around Sam and whispered, “Cas, what’s up?”  
  
Cas looked back at Dean, frustration clear on his features, even in the darkness. “This symbol. It’s different from the others. It’s in a different, and much older, language. A demon dialect that I haven’t seen in centuries and one that I never learned. I can’t translate it. And I don’t understand why the demons would suddenly switch.”  
  
To Dean, the engraving looked identical to all the other ones. But Cas was, well, Cas. He probably knew what he was talking about. However, this left them with a dilemma. They could continue to follow the symbols without knowing what they said, or they could try to find something that Cas  _could_ translate. Either way, valuable time was being wasted.  
  
Sam, who had been studying the parchment blueprints, spoke up. “The path we’re on leads directly to the center of the catacombs. I would bet that that’s where Abaddon’s hiding out.”  
  
Something about that assumption seemed strange to Dean. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. If someone entered the catacombs, wouldn’t the first place they ventured to be the dead center? If Abaddon was trying to remain hidden, wouldn’t she have gone to some remote corner of the place? “Why would she stay in the center if she’s trying not to be found? Doesn’t that seem a little weird to you?”  
  
A mocking voice echoed across the cavern in response to Dean’s inquiry. “It’s because she figures anyone stupid enough to come looking for her will be easy prey.”  
  
Dean’s head whipped around, searching in the darkness for the source of the words. It was obviously a demon, but how the hell had it managed to sneak up on them without notice? How had Cas not sensed it with his angelic powers?  
  
Dean pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his jeans and brought it up, leveling it at the darkness. “Where the hell are you, you son of a bitch?”  
  
A dark chuckle rang out from the pitch-black void surrounding them. “Now Dean, that isn’t very polite. I’ll show myself in my own time.” The laugh came again, throaty and masculine. A male vessel. “Abaddon’s been expecting you boys. Oh, and Castiel, don’t feel bad about not detecting us. That rune you can’t translate? It masks us from even the likes of you. We’re invisible to all of your senses.” The voice trailed off into another bout of cold laughter.  
  
“‘Us’…” Dean muttered, gripping his pistol more tightly. “Just how many of them are there?”  
A high-pitched giggle pierced the air. A teenage girl, maybe younger. “I don’t know, Dean Winchester. Just how many of us will it take to kill you?”  
  
“I’d like to see you try,” Dean snarled, preparing to squeeze the trigger. He stopped when Cas laid a hand on his arm.  
  
“Dean,” Cas whispered urgently. “You need to get to Abaddon. You and Sam must go. I’ll hold them off.”  
  
Dean shook his head vehemently. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone to—” he cut off at the imploring look in Cas’ eyes.  
  
“Do you want to end this or not?” Cas stepped around Dean, putting himself between the demons and the Winchesters.  
  
Dean stood where he was, torn. He knew that he had to reach Abaddon and that only he could complete the banishment ritual, but how could he leave Cas alone to face a horde of demons that he couldn’t even sense? Angel or not, Cas could still get hurt. Who knew what weapons and tricks the demons had up their sleeves?  
  
Cas turned to glance back at Dean, a determined light in his eyes. “We don’t have time for you to be indecisive. Go, Dean. Now.” He turned away, preparing to face the onslaught.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Dean took a step away from Cas, and then another. He knew he had to go, but damn, it was hard to leave Cas alone to fight them all. He knew that Cas was more than capable, but if something happened to him…. “Don’t you dare die on me, Castiel, you hear?”  
  
He could practically see the smirk on Cas’ face, even though his back was turned. “Of course, Dean. Now  _go_.”  
  
Before turning away, Dean raked his eyes across Cas’ figure. They would see each other again. There was no way that this was goodbye. Cas would beat the demons, Dean would kill Abaddon, and they’d all go out for burgers after. He turned to see Sam waiting for him, demon blade in hand. Together, they sprinted down the stone corridor toward Abaddon.  
  


\------------

As Dean and Sam rounded the final corner, two things assailed their senses—complete darkness and the stench of Death. Throughout the entirety of the catacombs, there had been a dim natural light. Now, Dean could see nothing. Nothing, that is, except the outline of a door a hundred yards away. It glowed invitingly, a bright rectangle in a sea of black. Dean took a step toward in it, his foot splashing into a shallow puddle.  
  
He didn’t need his sight to know that he had just walked into a pool of blood. The sickeningly metallic scent was more than enough. He swallowed thickly, repulsed. How much blood had been spilled here? How many bodies littered the ground in the darkness, meat suits cast aside like refuse? For once, Dean was glad for the lack of light.  
  
Holding his breath to avoid the worst of the smell, Dean gingerly stepped forward, trying his best to ignore the slight splash his boots made with each contact to the ground. In mere minutes, Abaddon would be banished, and the rest of the demons exterminated like the rats that no doubt festered in these catacombs. The killings would stop, and no more blood would be spilt. With each passing moment as Dean approached the door, his apprehension built. Abaddon clearly knew that they were here, so he had no doubt she was lounging on the other side of the door, waiting to kill them. Perhaps she thought they were already dead, killed by her demons.  
That was, however, incredibly unlikely. Abaddon had a network of demons hiding out in the catacombs, prepared to do her bidding. There was no way that she hadn’t realized they’d escaped.  
  
 _Well, that you and Sam escaped_ , a small voice at the back of Dean’s head whispered.  _You have no idea what happened to Cas. You just left him there to die_.  
  
Dean shook his head violently to dislodge the thought. He couldn’t afford to be distracted if he was going to banish a Knight of Hell. And he  _didn’t_  just abandon Cas. Cas had told them to leave. Besides, Cas was an angel. He could smite a hundred demons without breaking a sweat. There was nothing to worry about.  
  
As he neared the door, the pain in his chest began to mount. It was as though the ritual knew it was almost complete, anticipation making it spark like the beginnings of a wildfire. All Dean had to do was complete the chant in Abaddon’s presence and then stab her with the knife that Kevin’s blood had graced. Nothing could go wrong.  
  
Dean could see Sam illuminated in the dim light cast as he reached the door. He looked to Dean, who nodded at him, pulling out the anointed blade while pointing his pistol at the door. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. They had one chance to get this right. Otherwise, they were probably all dead. Sam brought his own handgun and leveled it at the door. Then, he brought up his leg and kicked it in.  
  
It was a maelstrom of chaos as soon as the door swung open. The Winchesters ran in, guns blazing. Demons shrieked as bullets riddled their meatsuits, several of them smoking out of their procured bodies within moments. Dean spied Abaddon, sitting upon a throne of bone, watching the exchange with vicious glee. Dean had been right; Abaddon had been expecting them.  
  
Dean had taken down nearly fifteen demons before he felt an invisible force fling him backward. He crashed into the wall of the cavern, pinned there by demonic telekinesis. He saw Sam riddle another demon with bullet holes before he too was flung. Dean glanced around the room, swiftly eyeing any details that might help him later.  
  
The cavern was massive. Torches blazed on the smooth stone walls. Abaddon’s nightmarish throne was mounted on a pedestal at the far end. Whatever purpose this room had served before the arrival of the demons was undecipherable. Abaddon and her followers had removed any vestiges of the Men of Letters, furnishing the room instead with severed heads and painting the walls with blood. Enochian sigils were also carved into the cavern walls. Wardings against angels, Dean reckoned. Cas wouldn’t be able to teleport directly into the cavern. Done assessing the interior design, he turned his attention to the figures that milled about. Only nine demons remained standing after the brief skirmish, Dean noted with satisfaction. His eyes snapped back to Abaddon as the Knight began to laugh.  
  
“Dean and Sam Winchester,” she crooned. “How kind of you to join us.”  
  
She stood, hair fanning out around her head like a hellish halo. She was clad all in black, heeled boots reaching to her knees. They clacked as she strode across the floor to stand in front of Sam.  
  
“Little Sammy Winchester. I just keep seeing you around. You don’t know when to quit, do you?”  
  
Sam gazed at her from his perch on the wall, contempt written in his features. “Apparently not.” he snapped back scathingly.  
  
The exchange continued, but Dean tuned it out. It was now or never. He braced himself, recalling the remainder of the incantation. He had to get it exactly right or this whole mission would be for naught. He began to mutter under his breath, hoping that Abaddon was too occupied with Sam to notice.  
  
“ _Ut inimicos sanctae circulae humiliare digneris,  
Te rogamus, audi nos.  
Terribilis Deus Sanctuario suo,  
Cernunnos ipse truderit—_ ”  
  
Dean broke off as Abaddon paced over to him, murder in her eyes. She stepped closed to him, her face mere inches from his own. Lips curled into a sneer of contempt, she leaned close to his ear and whispered.  
  
“What was that, Dean? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.”  
  
She pulled back to look Dean in the eye. He glared straight back. “Go to Hell.”  
  
Abaddon reached up angrily and gripped a fistful of Dean’s hair, pushing his head back roughly into the wall. “Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt,” she snarled, fury making her eyes dance with an insane light. “That was a banishment ritual. But where would a couple of idiots like you manage to find one like that?”  
  
When Dean’s answer was not forthcoming, the demon huffed, enraged. She relinquished her hold on his hair and instead brought her hand down to grip his neck, nails biting into his skin and drawing blood. “I don’t want to kill you, Dean. Once I peel that tattoo from your chest, it will be so much fun to ride you, listening to you scream in the background as I slaughter innocent people. Oh, I don’t  _want_  to kill you. But that doesn’t mean I won’t.”  
  
Dean bit back his retort. He couldn’t let Abaddon kill him now. Not when he was so close. He pressed his lips together and glared defiantly at the demon. She smiled wickedly and took a step back. Dean could feel the blood streaming in rivulets down his neck from the scratches.  
  
“What’s the matter, Dean?” Abaddon jeered. “You were so very talkative a moment ago.”  
  
The Knight grinned maniacally and turned around, beginning to walk back toward her grizzly ivory throne. Dean glanced around at the other demons. They had all moved and were standing along the walls, straight-backed and obedient, following Abaddon’s every move with their eyes. Dean shut his own eyes, tightened his grip on the knife, and took a quick breath. As quickly as he could, he chanted:  
  
“ _—Virtutem plebi Suae,  
Aradia ipse fortitudinem plebi Suae.  
Benedictus Deus, Gloria Patri,  
Benedictus Dea—”_  
  
Abaddon was upon him in seconds, slamming his head backward, her arm pressed against his throat. Dean could feel the fire building within his chest, signifying the completion of a portion of the ritual. However, Abaddon’s forearm was cutting off his windpipe. He couldn’t even breathe, let alone utter the final words.  
  
Abaddon’s face was twisted into a hideous mask of fury. She bared her teeth and leaned close to him.  
  
“Just remember,” she hissed. “You forced my hand.”  
  
Faster than the human eye could follow, Abaddon whipped her hand from Dean’s throat and plunged it through his heart. With a choked gasp, Dean growled, “ _Matri gloria_ , bitch,” and swung his blade into Abaddon’s neck.  
  


\------------

There were a lot more demons than Castiel had initially thought. Not too many that they overpowered him, but enough that it was taking a while to kill them all. Cas had lost his trench coat a bit ago, torn off by a demon who tried to attack him from behind. A pile of bodies heaped unceremoniously on the ground around him, the demons within either smitten or stabbed. But the onslaught of monsters seemed endless. When had Abaddon’s army become so large? Of course, with power and manipulative abilities like hers, it should not have been a surprise. Most demons were cowards and flocked to a leader that they felt would keep them alive.  
  
As Cas cut down another demon, he let his thoughts wander to Sam and Dean. He had every confidence that they would reach Abaddon, but he was terrified of what may happen next. As soon as Dean initiated the last part of the ritual, he would incur Abaddon’s wrath. And when the two clashed, only one would walk out alive. Not for the first time, Cas regretted letting the Winchesters go off alone. However, if he hadn’t, the demons would have trapped them all and the two would never have reached Abaddon.  
  
A demon sprinted at him and Cas laid a palm against its forehead. He felt his grace rush through his body and down his arm, leaving nothing but a bright flash of light and a charred husk. The body collapsed at his feet with the rest.  
  
It was terrible, all the people that were dying. However, Castiel didn’t have time to exorcise every demon and then get all the humans to a hospital. If they didn’t stop Abaddon, millions more people would likely die. The good of the many, so they say. At least Cas had the reassurance that most of these peoples’ souls were on their way to Heaven. Eternal paradise was far better than the pain on Earth.  
  
The number of demons was steadily dwindling. Cas figured he could leave the rest of them and destroy them later after he helped the Winchesters. In addition, most of them would probably desert anyway after Abaddon’s banishment. Cas knew the brothers had gone to the central chamber, so he willed himself to teleport there.  
  
However, it didn’t work. Something was blocking Cas’ ability to teleport, no doubt some sort of Enochian sigils put in place by the Knight of Hell herself. Of course, Cas had the map from the Men of Letters, but he didn’t have time to pull it out and read it. He needed to get to Dean and Sam as quickly as possible.  
  
In a frenzy, Cas smote the remainder of the demons until there was only one left. He pinned the demon to the wall, blade pointed at its throat. The demon was entrenched in the body of a middle-aged man with crooked teeth and a balding head. His features twisted as he began to beg for mercy.  
  
“Silence,” Cas growled, shutting up the whimpering demon instantly. “Take me to Abaddon and I may let you live.”  
  
The demon knew that he would die if he refused. Hell, he would probably be killed anyway, but if he complied with the wishes of the angel, he at least had a fighting chance. As soon as Cas eased up, the demon darted off into the darkness, Cas quick on his heels.  
It wasn’t long before Cas could hear a commotion up ahead. He quickened his pace, hoping that the Winchesters were still okay. If they got killed, if Dean got killed…  
  
Cas shook the thought out of his head. Dean had trained for this since he was a child. He was the best. If anyone could banish a Knight back to Hell, it was Dean Winchester. He was certainly fine; Cas wouldn’t know what to do if he wasn’t. Cas turned a corner and a welcoming light came into view. He quickened his pace, catching up to the demon ahead of him. The demon stopped, looking at him in fear. It was pathetic, and Cas was feeling less that merciful. He lunged with the angel blade, killing the demon where it stood. Without a second glace, he sprinted forward, heedless of the pools of blood he was splashing through.  
  
He was mere feet from the doorway when he heard a feminine-Abaddon’s-scream of rage. Cas was almost there. He was almost to the Winchesters, almost to Dean. Their foolish plan was actually going to work. The angel burst through the doorway just in time to see Dean plunge his knife into Abaddon’s throat, and Abaddon plunge her arm through Dean’s chest.  
  


\------------

Time seemed to slow down. Cas watched it all happen in frozen horror, unable to move. He felt like he was sinking, like the scene before him would engulf him forever in nightmarish torment. This wasn’t possible. They were supposed to get in, kill Abaddon, and get out. There were supposed to be no complications, no hunters collapsing to the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of blood.  
  
Cas saw Abaddon stumble backward, scrabbling at the knife in her neck. A pulsating red light spread its way across her body as she screamed. The crimson glow burst from her eyes and mouth. Suddenly, as though she was a puppet whose strings had been cut, Abaddon slumped unceremoniously to the ground. A smoldering flame spiraled up from her chest, consuming her. Within moments, Abaddon and the body of Josie Sands were no more.  
  
Panic ensued. Several of the demons smoked out of their bodies immediately, billowing black clouds spewing into the air. Some ran in denial toward the charred ashes that remained of their leader. No longer pinned, Sam collapsed onto the ground.  
  
Castiel was ripped from his trance as one of the demons separated himself from the group and started toward Dean. To check if he was alive or to finish him off if he wasn’t, Cas was never sure, but the demon didn’t even make it halfway before an angel blade was protruding from his chest. Cas, having thrown the blade moments before, darted over and pulled it from the limp body. Prickles of rage began to fill the emptiness and disbelief that had struck him when he had first arrived. He whirled around, capturing the remaining demons in his sights. Within seconds he had slain the lot of them, not giving a single one the chance to escape. When he was finished he stood still for a moment, surrounded by corpses. The blood stopped roaring in his ears and the panic began.  
  
 _Dean._  
  
Cas turned, terrified of what he would find. He raced over to where Dean lay. Sam was already there, his jacket shed and pressed to the wound in attempt to staunch the flow of blood. However, both he and Cas could see that it was useless.  
  
“Come on, Dean. Come on!” Sam ground out through gritted teeth. He put more weight onto the jacket, but Dean was becoming paler by the moment. No man could save Dean Winchester now.  
  
Cas let his angel blade clatter to the ground beside him as he knelt on the other side of Dean’s body, across from Sam. Tears were streaming down the younger Winchester’s face, his knees soaked by his brother’s blood. Gently, Cas lifted Sam’s hands off of the blood soaked jacket. The hunter looked up at Cas with a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes. No man could save his brother, but perhaps an angel could.  
  
Heart thumping wildly in his chest, Cas peeled the bloody jacket from Dean’s chest. He gasped aloud, horrified at the extent of what was beneath it. Abaddon had torn a hole straight through Dean’s chest. Jagged flesh ringed the edges, and Cas could see the severed veins and arteries pumping Dean’s life out onto the cold floor of the chamber, but Cas could heal him. The angel wouldn’t allow himself to fail. And since Dean had completed the ritual and Abaddon was gone, the magic would no longer inhibit Cas’ abilities. At least, he hoped it wouldn’t.  
  
Cas tore Dean’s shirt open, bloodstained buttons flying in his haste. It took one glance for his heart to fall, and his hope to shatter. For spiraling like tattoos across Dean’s chest were ancient sigils and words from beyond time itself. They faded from burgundy to black as they neared his heart. The magic would have been complete once the symbols curled themselves over the heart and faded to nothing more than a mark upon the soul, but the horrific wound had impeded their progress. Abaddon’s last act had been a well-placed one. With no means to complete itself, the ritual had instead trapped the magic within Dean’s body. A timeless magic that rendered Castiel’s ability to heal utterly useless. But he still had to try. He would not just sit aside and watch his best friend, the only love he’d ever found in his long, lonely immortal life, _die_.  
  
Cas placed his hands on Dean’s chest above and below his wound, ignoring the pints of blood that gushed over them. He felt his grace humming within his own chest, the power of it thrumming down to his bloodstained fingertips. White light glowed from beneath his palms. Instead of sinking into Dean’s skin to being healing him, the light was deflected by the curling black markings, bouncing off uselessly. In desperation, Cas slammed his hands back onto Dean’s chest, directly onto the ghastly wound. Thick and hot, a sea of scarlet submerged Cas’ hands up to the wrists. He willed all of his available power into his hands, trying to force it into Dean’s body. The angelic white light built up once more beneath his hands. Rather than absorbing the healing touch, Dean’s body rejected it, light shooting off in several directions. Cas lifted his hands and stared despairingly at the crimson liquid dripping from them. This couldn’t be real. It was all some sort of hellish dream. Dean was… _Dean_. He was a  _Winchester_. He couldn’t be dying.  
  
To Cas, Dean was everything. He had been the first human in a long time that Cas had interacted with, and a completely new sort of person than the angel had ever experienced. Dean had saved Cas from himself, from his unwavering obedience and mindless complacency. From Dean, Cas had learned to trust himself, to think for himself, to believe in free will. Dean had prayed to him and searched for him and believed in him even when he hadn’t believed in himself. And, as Cas began to realize, Dean had shown Cas how to love and be loved in return. A few years with Dean had allowed Cas to learn and become so much more than a millennia with the angels. Dean had taught Cas how to  _live_.  
  
“No…” Cas whispered brokenly. “Dean, you can’t just leave. You said once that you needed me. Well, I need you too. More than you know. More than you could ever know.” His voice broke and he trailed off. He could hear Sam’s uneven breathing as the hunter tried to hold tears at bay. A silence fell between them, punctuated only by Dean’s slowly fading breaths. Both men could only sit helplessly as the most important person to them slowly perished. All the grace in the world couldn’t save Dean now.  
  
Cas stared down at his hands, scarlet with the blood of his friend. His love. His everything.  _No, Dean! You are_ not  _permitted to die on us, on me!_  
  
In a last act of desperation, Castiel snatched up his angel blade from the ground where he had dropped it. Perhaps grace couldn’t heal Dean from outside, but it was possible that it could save him from within. Right now, Cas couldn’t use his grace, but Dean could.  
  
Cas dragged the blade across his wrist, barely wincing at the pain. He flexed his hand, watching the glowing light of his grace glimmer beneath the surface of his skin. There was no way of knowing if this would work—something of this nature had never before been attempted. But Cas had to try.  
  
He could feel Sam’s questioning stare as he lifted Dean up with one hand. The blood had become thicker and darker, pouring what little remained of Dean’s life out onto the rough earthen ground. Cas steeled himself. Then, without any second thoughts, he plunged his own hand into the hole made by Abaddon. Sam made a loud noise of protest, but Cas ignored him, instead focusing on his grace.  
  
As he had before, Cas willed his power into his hand. But instead of converting the raw, unadulterated grace into a healing glow, he left it as it was, forcing the angelic power out of the laceration on his wrist. Blue-white light engulfed Cas’ forearm and burned its way like fire into Dean’s chest. Cas’ wings flared open, outlined in the same blue-white light.

  
Losing his grace was not at all as Castiel had imagined it to feel. A light prickling sensation began to build in his chest, and an icy numbness spread through his limbs. Cold engulfed him, settling bone deep and chasing away any and all of his body heat. Then, the pain began. It felt as though a hole was being drilled through Cas’ chest with an icy whirlwind. Frigid agony pierced his heart, so cold that it burned. He felt his wings slowly freezing, going numb as the feathers began to fall and disintegrate, one by one. Soon, he could feel nothing except a chilling agony that engulfed his entire being. Still, he expelled the grace from his own body and into the prone form in his arms.  
  
Abruptly, the pain ceased, leaving behind a dull ache and a chilling emptiness. Cas removed his hand from Dean’s chest, waiting. If Dean’s body rejected the grace, then all had been for naught. If not, then Dean’s wound would heal, and he would survive. The grace would mostly likely dissipate or be completely used up in the process, leaving them both one hundred percent human. But Cas didn’t care. Not as long as it meant that Dean could live.  
  
The last of the cerulean light sank into Dean’s chest. Sam looked on in speechless shock at the scene, watching, waiting for something, some miracle, to bring his brother back from the dead. Suddenly, Dean began to convulse. Cas held him tightly as he thrashed. Dean’s mouth opened in a silent scream and white light issued forth. His eyes snapped open, glowing in the same fashion.  
The light sparked up into the hole in his chest, chasing the inky markings away and knitting the wound back together, new flesh and sinew stretching over it. The light faded and Dean let out a shuddering gasp and then breathing normally.  
  
Cas choked out a relieved chuckle. “It worked. It actually worked!” He shook his head in awed disbelief, staring at Dean’s peaceful face.  
  
Sam stared. “ _What_  worked? Cas, what did you just  _do_?”  
  
Cas looked up at Sam. “My grace,” he replied, relief making his voice gruff. “I gave him my grace.”  
  
Cas’ attention was drawn back to Dean as he gasped. His eyes snapped open, green seeking out familiar crystal blue, and crinkling into a smile as they met. He let out a weak laugh as he glanced between Cas and Sam. “We sure showed her, huh.”  
  
Sam laughed, and Cas grinned, his chest tight with emotion. “You did it, Dean,” he said leaning over to place a tender kiss on the other man’s lips. He began to pull away, but Dean reached up and pulled him back down by his shirtfront, deepening the kiss. After a moment or two, Sam cleared his throat and the two broke apart, identical grins on their faces.  
  
“Aw, lighten up, Sammy. It’s not every day we banish a Knight of Hell,” Dean admonished, punching his brother playfully in the arm.  
Sam laughed as he and Cas helped Dean to his feet. “I guess you’re right. But can you at least save it until we’re back at the Bunker?”  
  
Dean grinned, looking sidelong at Cas. “Well,” he drawled, “I guess. But only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”  
  
The trio laughed, happiness and relief washing over them. Sam led the way back through the maze of tunnels, and Dean and Cas followed, Dean leaning lightly on Cas for support. When they emerged from the church, it was into a brilliant sunrise. Gold and vermillion light bathed the scene, basking them in a warm, welcoming light.  
  
“I’ll go get the car,” Sam announce, casting a knowing look back at his brother and Cas.  
  
As Sam darted off, Dean turned, enveloping Cas in his arms. He pulled back slightly so that he could see Cas’ face. “Thank you,” he whispered, a soft smile gracing his lips.  
  
Cas cocked his head to the side, feigning confusion in the hopes that Dean didn’t remember the terrible ordeal that he had just undergone. “All I did was kill a few demons, Dean. You’re the one who banished Abaddon.”  
  
Dean shook his head, placing a gentle kiss on Cas’ brow. “Don’t think I don’t know what you did for me, Castiel. I can’t ever repay you for that.”  
  
Cas shrugged, glancing away from Dean and then back. “You don’t have to.” Cas silenced Dean’s reply with a chaste kiss. He could still taste the blood and death on Dean’s lips, but there was something else there. A cold purity that cleansed the taint of pain and sorrow, leaving behind the perfection of love and passion.  
  
Cas and Dean stayed that way, sharing kisses and unspoken emotion until they heard the roar of the Impala from around a bend. They broke apart, lacing their fingers together as they waited for Sam. They both knew that there were moments from this hunt that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. Cas was human now, and Dean had just about been resurrected by his grace with unknown side effects, but for now, they would focus on the good. Abaddon was banished, the demons had left Lecompton, and they were all alive. They had each other.  
  
And, in the end, that’s all anyone can really ask for.  
  
 _“Well, the death of life, then come the resurrection  
Wherever I am welcome is when I'll be  
I put all my confidence in Him, my sole protection  
Is the saving grace that's over me”  
-“Saving Grace”, Bob Dylan_


End file.
